Breathing Hurts - (Logicality) Sanders Sides
by Cardigans and Hoodies
Summary: Hanahaki disease, in definition, is an illness born from unrequited love. Love that will never be reciprocated. Love that can never be reversed. Love that is soon to become a death wish. It was accidental. It was never meant to happen like this. But now flowers once thought to be delicate and beautiful, burn and tickle the inside of Patton's throat with each day that passes.
1. Prologue

Prologue

_Flowers are beautiful things, delicate and intricate little wonders. Their colours blooming like little rainbows in the Springtime, bursting with the shy scent of perfume._

_Flowers are the symbols of love, friendship, innocence, wealth and much more…_

_Flowers are something you give to someone to say thank you. They are gifts you give to family when you're not sure what else to get. Flowers can often be seen as a peace offering to people you wish to say sorry to._

_Flowers are a way to say goodbye to a loved one._

_Flowers are to tell someone you love them. That you would do anything for them. That you would offer your very heart to them in any way you can think of._

_So if flowers are a symbol of love. If flowers are delicate and beautiful. If flowers are to show someone how much you adore them…_

**_Then_**

_Why_

**_Can't_**

_I_

**_Bre__athe?_**


	2. Petals on my pillow

_Delicate, little blue rose petals. _

_That's what they are. _

_There is no denying them._

Delicate, little blue rose petals make themselves comfortable on my pillow. Flecks of blood stain their edges, spoiling their beauty. My pillow ruined with specks of dark crimson liquid, seeping further into the cotton with each minute that passes, and I can't help but stare at them. My eyes fixed on the splodges, and clumps of petals mixed with red that have just forcefully left my lips.

_Cough. _

_After cough. _

I brush my shaking fingers to my lips, now wet, soiled with my own blood, tears threatening their way down my cheeks as petals tickle the back of my throat. Stomach churning, palms sweating as another cough demands to pass my lips. My fingers press against my lips, hard, trying to keep the force from leaving as petals crawl up my throat, my other hand clawing at the pillow to brace the pain.

_Why?_

Why is this happening? It hasn't ever before, why now? Have I done something wrong? Is Thomas ill? Oh Thomas! If Thomas is ill, the others will be too... right? It can't just be me... but what if it is?

_Am I dying? _

I can't die... I'm part of Thomas. He needs me. They all need me... please... they need me... right?

_Cough. _

The urge to cough my lungs out passes eventually...

_Knock. _

"Patton?" At just the sound of his voice the urge comes back. My lungs feeling like bursting balloons ready to pop any second. Heaving back a burning breath, wheezing, I drive the petals down with an agonizing gulp.

"Y-yeah, Lo?" I just barely manage to push the words from my blood covered lips.

"We're required to record a video in a few minutes. I'm just making sure you're organized."

"Of course! Happy Pappy Patton is always ready for filming with Thomas..." Each syllable is torture on my tongue. Every word burns my throat.

"I see..." His footsteps hurt my ears as he leaves... Mainly because I don't want him to go.

I take one last look at the blood covered petals, which rest so perfectly on my pillow as tears fall from my eyes, the back of my hand wiping at my lips.

_I _

_Can't _

_do _

_this! _


	3. Just a crush?

"It's just a crush...?"

"Just a crush?! Thomas, are you completely out of your mind? He could be your Prince Charming. Your love for an eternal happily ever after! And you are telling me that it is just some _'CRUSH?'_"

"Whoa! Pump the brakes, Princey. Thomas hardly knows the guy, he doesn't even know his name, for crying out loud! For all we know, he could be some kind of axe murderer!"

"I mean... Come on guys... maybe my feelings are just... confused?"

"Ah, feelings... The bane of my existence. Why on earth would anyone need feelings is beyond all... well, me. They do absolutely nothing but weigh you down, causing added misery and pressure to-"

"Your feelings are not confused! Thomas hopes and dreams to be in a loving relationship. Like in the fairy-tales, and if you haven't noticed, I am the one who is in control of those hopes and dreams! Here is your chance to -"

"Has anyone even thought about asking Thomas' feelings? Where's Patton in all of this?"

"Yeah... where is Patton?"

I hear my name. Feel my body tugging upward, their words pounding against my skull all at the same moment, mind swirling, chest tightening. Heart... breaking. No matter how hard I try my best to breathe, it always seems to come out in short, shallow gasps of air. It's like I'm a fish out of water. A star without its shine. And a Patton without his... heart all in one piece.

I feel myself being summoned once again, the tugging of my body as if I am getting hoisted up out of a hole in the ground. It hurts. In all of my many times being summoned, they have never been this painful. Never this gut wrenching.

_Smile._

_Force a laugh._

_Pretend you're fine._

_Hide the pain._

_Hide the fear._

_No one_

_Needs_

_to_

_know._

"W-what's - What's goin' on kiddos?" I wobbly rise up, balance a little stilted, as the words painfully dribble from my lips like water hitting rocks. The tickle at the back of my throat seems to worsen and I have to let out a small cough to try and ease it.

"Well, now that the heart has arrived it seems that there is no need for me in the matter." My eyes flitter over to Logan, trying to grasp his attention only for it to fall flat, and feeling my own heart dropping to my stomach. "Clearly I have been thrown out the figurative window. He's just going to cloud your judgement with his... icky, sticky, gooey emotions." Logan grimaces, wiggling his fingers as if trying to get rid of something yucky from them.

_Smile._

_Force a laugh._

_Pretend you're fine._

"Don't be silly, Logan! My emotions aren't sticky... but this is!" I force a giggle, hoping it's convincing enough to fool Virgil into thinking I'm fine, and conjure up a stick. There are a few chuckles from Roman and a tiny snort from Thomas and Virgil. Logan, on the other hand, is glaring at me with utter distaste.

"I am not silly!" Logan snips back, giving a quick adjustment of the tie he is so fond of. "Neck tie! It means I am serious."

_Hide the pain._

Lungs burning with the urge to cough, the urge to choke up the flowers that are crawling up my throat only to get stuck half way. Never passing the finish line.

"Patton... I think we need your help." I turn my full attention to the Host, Thomas, and offer a smile. I try to hold off a cough, lungs filling as I keep down the unwanted force to come from my lips.

Instead, I take a deep breath and - "Happy Pappy Patton is your Happy Helping Pop!"

"Patton, these jokes are tediously punishing!" Logan adjusts his glasses, eyes cold as they flicker to mine.

"Did you just -"

"No I did not! Can you cease with the joking?!" He snaps, causing a flinch to rush through my body, tears pricking from the corners of my eyes at his sudden outburst. "This is why we can never take your feelings seriously, Thomas. Morality is not just your moral compass, he is the holder of your emotions. It's clear that Patton is the problem in all of this. In short, Him and I cannot simply be part of the same discussion. You either listen to," Logan lets out an exasperated sigh before continuing, "Your heart. Or, you can listen to the most logical side in the room. End of this illogical dilemma."

"Geeze L, you don't need to say it like that. Patton's just got here and we haven't even heard his side of things." Virgil shifts from foot to foot, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets.

"I hate to say it, but the Virgil is right." Roman adds, glancing over at me with a look a pity.

_Hide the fear._

Throat feels dry, almost claggy from the blood I can begin to taste on my tongue. If I stay here any longer it feels as if my heart might shatter into pieces and my lungs pop into nothing but a flurry of flowers.

_Blue flowers._

_I know what they mean now._

_Blue roses._

_Unrequited love._

* * *

The video ends with me being the last to sink down. And as usual, we all managed to help Thomas come to a rational decision about his new found crush. Eventually... That if he wants to develop it, then he should try and get to know the person more, see what each of them have in common. And if he wants it to be nothing more than a crush, then that's what he has to figure out when the time comes to decide.

"Thanks, Patton..."

I offer a meek smile, though Thomas doesn't seem to notice the lack of enthusiasm. "Happy to help, kiddo!" Thomas grins back shyly and nods.

"You're okay, right? I mean, you just haven't seemed yourself. Logan had no right to say what he did -"

"I'm Pat-tastic! No need to worry about your o'le Dad." I chuckle, trying to keep the petals down.

Thomas gives another nod and I sink down back into my room.

* * *

My room is a little darker when I enter, filling with sadness and despair, it's almost blue. Whimpers push past my lips as I try to make it to the adjacent bathroom, locking the door before collapsing in front of the toilet. Tears stream and collect at my chin like little raindrops, splatting into the toilet water as I hack up blood and faded blue petals. knuckles turning white with the lack of blood flow as I grip the porcelain harder, and harder with each retch, heaving out the blood clumped flowers.

A shudder rushes through me, sending chills down my spine, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. I hack the last few flowers up, wiping my blood covered lips with the back of my hand as I stare at the mess before me. Another pain filled sob racks my body, but I force myself to be quiet, keeping each whimper contained. Flushing the toilet, watching the whirlpool until there is no evidence that anything even happened.

_Because_

_No one_

_Needs_

_to_

_know._


	4. I'm fine

**A/N: I am so sorry for how short this chapter is... but a short chapter is better than no chapter, right?**

* * *

I feel it. Warm and wet trickling from my lips, blood seeping into the pillow my heavy head rests on, staining my hair an off red colour. It's sticky and messy, smearing across my cheeks, dribbling down my chin and dripping over my bare chest. Crimson liquid has already ruined more than one of my shirts, my pillows, my sheets, so what is the point of wearing one? Why should I wear something that will only get ruined with in a matter of minutes because petals covered in red want to force their way up my throat?

My room is cold. Almost lifeless, joyless and empty. The soft thud of my heart is the only noise that reaches up to my ears. I block everything else out. I don't need to hear anything else. I don't want to.

The urge to cough my lungs up scratches at the back of my throat, petals and thorns tickle and scrape at my oesophagus, causing a whimper to escape my clamped lips. I hold it. Keep it down with a hard swallow and a gulp.

_No one needs to know. _

_No one has to see this. _

_No one will notice _

_if_

_I _

_pre__tend_

_to _

_be _

_fi__ne..._

It's been three days since filming the video with Thomas and the others. Three days filled with nothing but agony and despair. Is it normal for my heart to hurt this much? Is it possible to feel this much pain? The answer must be yes, because if I couldn't... I wouldn't be hacking up petals, flowers, thorns and blood every time I think of a certain someone. Tears wouldn't be staining my cheeks, blood wouldn't be smeared half way across my face, and roses wouldn't be filling my lungs until I can barely manage to breath in a gulp worth of air.

But the pain is real. My lungs ache. My head hurts. And my heart... is broken.

_But I'm fine. _

_I _have _to be fine. _

_For Thomas. _


	5. Stronger feelings, deeper pain

My heart feels heavy in my chest, slowly dragging its broken pieces down to rest like a rock at the bottom of my stomach. It's as if it's not meant to be there at all. Thumping away every now and again, leading the blood to my veins and around the rest of my weakened body. Maybe I should just stay here; in my room, on my bed buried in a quilted layer of duvet, which is once again soiled with deep red liquid that continues to dribble from my parted lips. My mind drifts in and out of sleep, eyes drooping to an inch of their life as my head lays lazily on the pillow.

Nothing stops the pain in my lungs. Nothing stops my heart from shattering. Nothing stops the feelings I feel for Logan... Nothing. No matter how hard I try to push the thoughts and feelings away, they come back twice as strong. Then again, repression can be a difficult thing. But that doesn't stop me from trying to force away each and every single emotion connected to Logan.

I've never felt so empty, so lonely in all my life.

I've masked my pain many times before in the past. From Virgil. From Roman. From Thomas. Even from Deceit. But it is the most difficult to hide it away, burying it deep within my soul until it is invisible, from Logan. He has no time for that kind of thing. Emotions. Feelings. Pain. Love... He won't notice if I stop smiling. He won't notice if I start crying. He won't notice if I -

My throat tightens, pressure building up inside of my chest as the urge to cough up a lung takes hold of me, until I can hardly breathe. Water fills my eyes until I can no longer see past a blur of tears. It's as if I am downing in my own ridiculous feelings of fruitless sorrow and melancholy. My heart is like a rock. My lungs are like punctured, half inflated balloons filled with glass.

_Cough! _

_Hack!_

_Gasp!_

I choke back another wet cough, as warm coppery liquid begins oozing from my lips, dribbling down to collect at my chin. By this point the blood doesn't bother me anymore. The stains on my bed sheets are the only flecks of colour on them. If I look at them long enough some even appear to make pictures - the corners of my blood covered lips quirk into a weak smile as I spot a splodge that looks a little like Micky Mouse. Another one resembles a heart... but broken. I sniffle and sit up. My heart is broken too.

**Thunk-thunk.**

The thwack of my heart against my chest quickens, and I feel my throat tighten. I force down a breath before bracing myself. "W-who is it?" Three words... three words and my tongue feels like sand paper against the roof of my mouth. It burns and it stings. I try my best to perk myself up... if it's Virgil or Roman they'd know something is wrong as soon as I open my mouth again.

_"It's Logan."_


End file.
